Brain Dump

1. Where is that lovely burst of energy that is supposed to come with the second trimester? So far, it alludes me. This is very disappointing, to say the least.

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Puffy morning eyes and stinky slippers, on the day of his surgery

2. Last week I remembered a detail from the morning of the Monkey’s surgery.

On that morning, this past December, he was lying on the table in his Thomas pj’s with his super-large Thomas slippers on. He was calm as he could be- I don’t think he knew or sensed to be worried or afraid. The anesthesiologist told us that the gas he would breath in would smell funny, so they would give him a choice of LipSmackers to rub around the opening of the mask. The LipSmackers’ smell would help cover up the weird gas smell.

I knew, before he chose it, what he would pick. Sure enough- watermelon. He loves watermelon. He was excited about watermelon. The anesthesiologist rubbed it all around the mask before she put it over his mouth and nose, and then he was asleep in seconds.

Something about remembering that just struck me. Little 3 year old kid, on the big table, everyone suited up around him; and him just picking out a watermelon LipSmacker like it is…nothing.

That memory. He’s just fully vulnerable and fully human, you know? Not a “brave little boy”, or a “poor sick kid”, or any other one-dimensional version of himself. Rather, a 3 year old, in big Thomas the Train slippers that make his feel smell terrible, picking out a LipSmacker flavor to mask the smell of the gas. Gah.

Remembering that was just so very sad, all over again. Small child. Big surgery. His participation. That was just a hard, hard thing.

3. We just returned from a long weekend at my dad’s house. Their house- the house that we lost, then rebuilt, and that I grew up in- is under contract. If all continues to move as planned, he and his wife will move to their new place next summer.

We got married in the front yard. My brother’s wedding reception was in the front yard. My mom’s memorial service reception was in the front yard. It will be weird (understatement) to see other people in that front yard one day.

4. But in the same vein, it is very weird to go home and not know my way around town anymore. There’s just been so much growth since I left.

We did a day trip to Harper’s Ferry and trying to find my way to Hillsboro through Purcellville about blew my mind. I was clueless. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to directions anyway, so all of the new neighborhoods and roads just defeated me soundly.

5. Today, as I was holding the baby in one arm and the diaper bag in the other, I watched as my two big kids stood in front of me and wrestled to open the locked door. I did the usual- shift the baby to the other side, fumble with my keys, and say “excuse me” until they (finally) moved to the side.

Ohhhh. It’s locked! Again! Just like last time! And we don’t have the keys! And mom has a baby who is trying to dive headfirst out of her arms! And we’re standing here- both of us- right in her way!

How often does this happen?

Every day. As many times as we come and go from the house.

Seriously, people.

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6 thoughts on “Brain Dump

  1. Oh, how I’ve missed a blog post from you! Seriously. I don’t know how you do it, but you handle motherhood brilliantly. I still want to be you when I grow up. 😁. Reading that last part about trying to get out the door made me think of two country songs (don’t judge)….one called “you’re gonna miss this” by, I think, Trace Adkins, and the other one called “it won’t be like this for long” by Darius Rucker, who will always be Hootie to me.
    If you want, I can show you what I’ve been working on with Otis when I open the front door…..😉

    • i listened to country this weekend when i was home again. sometimes country songs just sum things up well.

      and thanks for your words about motherhood. some days i feel like i’m killing it, some days it is killing me. 🙂

  2. Some days, the beauty and sadness of life just get to me. (OK, lots of days.) It is through the small things that I get hit the hardest–the slippers, the lipsmackers, the wrong turns, the small rituals. It’s good to notice them, though. As a line from one of my favorite poems tells us, “…it is important that awake people be awake.” Maybe you’re not energetic, but you’re definitely awake.

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